Poem by Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta

On a Picture of Harvey Birch

I know not if thy noble worth
 My country's annals claim,
For in her brief, bright history
 I have not read thy name.

I know not if thou e'er didst live;
 Save in the vivid thought
Of him who chronicled thy life
 With silent suffering fraught.

Yet, in thy history I see
 Full many a great soul's lot;
Who joins that martyr-army's ranks,
 That the world knoweth not; —

Who cannot weep "melodious tears,"
 For fame or sympathy;
But who, in silence, bear their doom
 To suffer and to die; —

For whom no poet's harp is struck,
 No laurel wreath is twined;
Who pass unheard — unknown, away,
 And leave no trace behind; —

Who, but for their unwavering trust
 In Justice, Truth, and God,
Would faint upon their weary way,
 And perish by the road.

Truth, Justice, God!  Oh mighty faith,
 To bear us up unharmed;
The gates of Hell may not prevail
 Against a soul so armed.

1. Evening Hymn
2. The Battle of Life
3. Little Red Riding Hood
4. Cheney

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